


Time After Time

by Drogna



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series, RipFic, TimeShip, Timeship Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drogna/pseuds/Drogna
Summary: Before the Legends ever set foot on the Waverider, Rip and Gideon spent 12 years working together to safeguard time. Gideon did her best to look after her inexperienced Time Master, and Rip grew to love his eccentric AI. Not every mission went according to plan, and they met some interesting people along the way. Life for the two of them wasn't easy, but they always had each other.Stories from the years on the Waverider before Rip recruited the Legends.





	1. If You're Lost

**Author's Note:**

> It's Timeship Week! So here's my first story for it, which is really several short stories of life on the Waverider and some of the moments when Gideon and Rip looked after each other. Although, Gideon does end up doing the lion's share.

If you're lost you can look,  
And you will find me,  
Time after time  
  
If you fall I will catch you,  
I will be waiting,  
Time after time

Time After Time – Cyndi Lauper

-

“For the time would fail me to tell of Gideon… who through faith subdued kingdoms, worked righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, became valiant in battle, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens.” – Hebrews 11:32-34

-

Rip Hunter, newly qualified Time Master, stood on the bridge of the timeship and sighed with happiness. He had a ship, and it was really his, assigned to him alone.

He had graduated first in his class, and for that accolade he’d been assigned the Waverider. She wasn’t the newest ship in the fleet by any means, but the system was rarely wrong when it came to assigning ships to Captains. This would be the right ship for him. He’d been presented with his new rank insignia which shone brightly on his collar proclaiming his promotion to full Captain, and he was really quite proud of himself. Here he was, at the age of roughly 21, a Time Master Captain, a goal which he had worked for most of his life to achieve.

Now he just had to get acquainted with the ship’s systems and the on-board AI. He turned to the holographic projection table.

“AI?” he asked. “What is your designation?”

“Hello, Captain Hunter,” said the AI, “my name is Gideon.”

The voice was female, which was a little odd for a male name designation, but there were stranger things. He would have to ask which pronouns they wanted to be addressed as. He would prefer not to upset his AI on their very first mission together.

“Pleased to meet you, Gideon,” said Rip. “Do you have a projected image you wish to use and which pronouns do you prefer?”

A glowing blue head appeared, floating above the display. “I do, and I prefer she/her.”

Rip smiled, taking in the sight of the AI’s chosen form. Not all AIs chose to have a projected form. It was something personal to each one, and Gideon’s was quite pleasing. She smiled at him.

“I want to set up my override commands before we leave the hangar,” said Rip. “I’ll need a list of random words to assign as phrases.”

“I believe I have a suitable list for you to select from,” said Gideon. “Can I suggest that we code all commands of one type by having them start with the same letter? That should make it easier to remember them.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

Rip went down the list of randomly generated phrases and assigned them to the various emergency override commands that he required. He’d have to learn every phrase off by heart and there were quite a few of them, but he had no idea when such things might be needed and under what circumstances. It was important to be prepared and therefore thorough. Gideon herself could not supersede these commands, no matter the situation, and they would override her safety systems if necessary. Once it was done, he prepared to get underway.

“Have you received the details of our first mission?” he asked the disembodied holographic head.

“I have. I hope you’re prepared. The Time Masters have rather thrown you in at the deep end,” said Gideon. Her voice was upbeat and sounded a little amused.

“Well, I do love a challenge,” said Rip, rubbing his hands together and then pressing the controls which would shut the hatches and start the engines. He had read the details of the mission and was unsurprised that the AI had come to the same conclusion that he had. This was sink or swim time, and probably being used as something of a test of his abilities. He just had to hope that their faith in him was not misplaced and he was up to the task.

 “Set a course for North America 1863, Champion Hill, please, Gideon. I think we should get under way,” he took his seat at the controls.

“Yes, Captain,” said the AI. “Would you like me to take us out or would you like the honour given that this is our first flight together?”

“I think I’ll take the controls, if you don’t mind,” said Rip.

“Yes, sir,” said the AI.

Rip frowned at that, he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked being called “sir”, but now wasn’t the time to get picky. He had a beautiful time-ship to pilot out on his first mission.

Of course, the first mission was every bit as hard as he’d expected. You didn’t just change the course of an entire war without some hard work and considerable difficulty. He stumbled back onto the ship, tired but satisfied with his work.

“Gideon, can you check the timeline for me?” he asked, “How well did I do?”

“You will be pleased to know that the North now win the American Civil War again. All historical figures are alive and well. The timeline is back on track.”

“Oh good. On to the next mission then,” he said, trying to hide his exhaustion, although he had no idea why he was hiding anything from his AI. She wasn’t human and wouldn’t think less of him because of it.

“You have some time before you are expected back at the Vanishing Point,” said Gideon. “May I suggest you sleep?”

He shook his head. “No, I think we should get back. Could you plot a course back to the Vanishing Point, please? I’ll change and be on the bridge momentarily.”

“Yes, Captain,” she said.

Rip shrugged off his dark blue, Union jacket, and headed for the fabrication room to retrieve his uniform. He was just putting his brown jacket back on and doing up the buttons when Gideon contacted him again.

“Captain, I appear to be having some difficulty with my navigation matrix,” said Gideon.

Rip frowned. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“I believe a stray shot from the battleground may have hit my secondary data conduit. I anticipate that it will take twenty-four hours to repair,” replied Gideon.

He sighed. It looked like he wouldn’t make it back to the Vanishing Point quite as quickly as he’d hoped. He’d had some idea of borrowing a jump-ship on the pretence of needing further piloting practice and heading out to see Miranda. He could wipe the memory of a jump-ship quite easily, but a time-ship AI was a different matter. There were various safeguards in place that he’d have difficulty overriding and if he used his emergency codes then that would be logged.

Still, he and Miranda had known it wouldn’t be easy to see each other after she’d left. She’d understand that he’d get away when he could.

“Can your self-repair systems handle it?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain,” replied the AI.

At least that was something. He wouldn’t have to make the repair himself and he could follow his AI’s advice and get some sleep.

“I’ll go to my quarters and sleep then,” he said. “Perhaps you could wake me in eight hours and then I can at least begin my preparations for the next mission.”

“Very well, Captain,” said the AI.

He paused. “I don’t think I said thank you for you earlier insights into the timeline. I’d never have though to discuss matters with Major Williams if it hadn’t been for your suggestion.”

“You’re welcome, Captain,” said the AI, happily.

He nodded, again, slightly unsure why he was doing so given that she was a computer and couldn’t see him. She did have cameras but it wasn’t exactly the same. He went to his quarters and practically fell into his bed, he was so tired. He was awoken by his AI.

“Captain Hunter,” said the AI, “this is your requested wake-up call. Breakfast is ready in the galley once you are dressed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Thank you, Gideon. How are the repairs coming?”

“More rapidly than expected,” said Gideon. “My revised estimate suggests that we will be ready to depart once you have eaten.”

Rip frowned. That was rather convenient. Had his AI just manipulated him into getting a proper night’s sleep and breakfast before returning to the Vanishing Point? That was impossible though, AIs weren’t capable of such independent thought, let alone blatantly disobeying an instruction from their Captain. He was just overthinking this, probably he was still getting used to the fact that his AI seemed more human than he’d expected.

He shook his head, dismissing any ideas that he had of Gideon being overly concerned about his health, and went to shower and get dressed.

***

“Thank you for the suggestion, Gideon, I do believe you’re right and shaving off the beard would be a mistake. I’ve always thought it leant gravitas.”

***

She had formed a number of opinions about her new Captain. Obviously, he was young, arrogant and inexperienced, that was a given, most new Time Captains were, but she also thought he was rather serious, probably more serious than such a young man should be. However, he was also quite the planner and rather resourceful. She’d had Captains in the past who were far less successful and far more annoying. She actually quite liked this one and found herself worrying about him.

They had three successful missions under their belt before anything really went seriously wrong.

She lost him in the Amazon rainforest.

AIs did not panic, but she came very close to something that was akin to that human reaction. She re-ran scans that she’d already performed twice, well aware that she would not get a different result, and then she attempted calling him on the radio which, again, he had already failed to answer numerous times, before she was able to pull her synapses back to order. When her processes were organised once more she calmly went over the data again, and logically formed a new plan.

She knew that he had not disappeared completely and she had his previous location. She also knew that he had been alive and well when he last called in. She engaged her emergency protocols, something which allowed her slightly more autonomy in her actions, and scanned for all human life signs within range. She detected a number of tribespeople, but was unable to determine if any of the lifesigns were actually her Captain.

She reasoned that he would be on his own and had most likely tried to walk a straight line between his objective and the ship. The trees were quite dense here, and he would have been able to use them as cover quite easily. Unfortunately, it was likely that some members of the tribe had blocked his path, which would have sent him, probably towards the river. She could identify a number of individual life signs along the river, any of which might be her Captain, however she realised that only one of them was totally still, and in the right area. She still could not be absolutely certain, but it seemed that something had happened. He was probably injured and unable to return to the ship.

The mission parameters were simple. A wandering time traveller (not a Time Master because they had all been vaccinated against such things) would accidentally come into contact with the people of Abacaxis and they would contract a virus from him which would wipe out the entire tribe. Her Captain would persuade the traveller to leave and keep him clear of the tribe. That part of the mission had gone well, and Captain Hunter had contacted her to let her know that he was on his way back.

He had needed to stay out of the way of the tribe himself because he hadn’t wanted to contaminate the timeline. However, if he was in danger then she might need some help to rescue him. She downloaded the Abacaxis language into her voice matrix, and went over the relevant mythology files. She projected her voice towards the nearest member of the tribe. A young woman was picking fruit from a nearby tree.

“I am the spirit of the forest. Come closer,” she said.

The woman frowned. She moved a little nearer, and Gideon manipulated her adaptive camouflage. She switched into a slithering display of shimmering green scales of varying shades. She had turned the Waverider into a giant snake, a boa constrictor made of illusion and tricks of the light. Its false eyes blinked at the woman.

“Yes,” she said. “I won’t hurt you. Come closer.”

“Sachamama,” murmured the woman, but she did edge further towards the Waverider.

“Yes,” replied Gideon. “I am Sachamama. The mother spirit of the forest.”

The woman bowed to her. “I am honoured that you speak to me.”

“I have a job for you and it is important you do it quickly. Do you understand?” Gideon put a slight hiss into her tone, as befitted a snake goddess.

The woman nodded. “I do, great jungle spirit.” She bowed to the snake.

Gideon decided that was good enough. “There is an intruder in the jungle and I need you to get him for me. He is unconscious, near the large rocks, by the river. You may need help.”

“Yes, jungle mother,” she said. She bowed again and bustled away.

Gideon was unsure whether this would work, but the alternative was to send out a distress signal and for some reason she doubted that her Captain would want another Time Master to come to his aid unless it was absolutely the last resort.

The giant boa constrictor, embodiment of Sachamama, the snake spirit guardian of the jungle, sat and waited. She monitored the lifesigns of the humans as they moved. She watched the woman she had spoken to in particular, and took note that she neared the river and walked along it towards the rocky outcrop where she thought her Captain was. Then other lifesigns converged on his assumed location.

The lifesigns moved all together. She hoped that they were being gentle with him, especially if he was injured. A large party of people now approached her, and she could see that he was carried high on their shoulders. He entered the range of her more sensitive scanners and she was able to discover that he was still breathing, although unconscious. She could also discern blood on his head, so it seemed likely that a head injury was the reason for his unconsciousness. His right leg also appeared to be held at an unusual angle, and she tentatively diagnosed it as broken.

“Place him down on the ground,” she directed. They did as she asked, her Captain lay unconscious and vulnerable on the mulch of the jungle floor. The sunlight filtered down, allowing her to notice the paleness of his skin.

“We will sacrifice him to the jungle spirit!” said one of the men, and he already had a knife out before Gideon could say anything.

“No!” said Gideon, quickly. She put some anger into her voice and raised the volume. That had been quite close. She hadn’t thought that this ruse would be dangerous for Captain Hunter. She was also beginning to realise that it was unlikely that he would wake up and make his own way onto the ship.

It occurred to her that she could use this situation to her advantage and solve two problems at once.

“Not like that,” she added. “You must place him inside me, in the special temple there. Only two of you may enter, but you will be rewarded for your service to me and you will be allowed to leave safely once he is inside me.”

She shifted her camouflage again, so that now it appeared that the hatch was an opening mouth. She really hoped that these people had not had sufficient contact with the outside world that they realised what she was, but she felt at this point that she had no choice.

“Quickly,” she said, concerned about her Captain’s health now. “I am hungry.”

There was a conversation amongst the tribe and two people picked up her Captain. They rather fearfully approached her, and then stepped inside. She did not close the hatch behind them because she thought it might scare them and then they might hurt the Captain.

“Please follow the lights in my innards and place the man on the bed you find in my inner temple,” said Gideon to the two tribesmen.

She dimmed all the other lights on board and lit up the corridor that led to the medbay. Luckily medbay was close to the entry hatch, because the ship had been designed with the idea that medical emergencies might require quick access to medbay’s facilities. The two men were clearly afraid, and they looked around themselves with rapid glances like frightened rabbits.

However, they did as she asked them. She used the medical fabricator to produce a huge basket of local fruits.

“Place him on the lit bed,” she instructed, directing her lights so that they illuminated one of the medbay couches. “And place the circle of metal around his wrist. Then you may take the fruit and go.”

They didn’t exactly put him down gently, but getting him here at all had been something of an achievement. She could heal all his wounds here, even if some might take longer than others. She did wait until the two men had left before she activated the blue light of the scanner and gave him a thorough exam. She kept an electronic eye on the two tribesmen as they walked back out of her corridors and into the jungle again.

She shut the gaping maw of the snake.

“Thank you,” she said to the waiting tribe. “Your service to the jungle has been noted. You may go now.”

She used another trick of her camouflage and made the snake seem to slither away and back into the trees behind them. The Waverider appeared as invisible once more. The tribespeople remarked upon this with both surprise and amazement, but they did begin to move away eventually. She had no wish to leave this bit of the rainforest for the moment, so she hoped that the ship would not be disturbed further. It had been difficult to find a suitable area to land in amongst the trees and the take-off would be a difficult one. She also couldn’t jump into the temporal zone whilst her Captain was injured.

She turned her attention to her Captain. His clothes were rather damp and she worried that he was cold, so she increased the temperature of the medbay. He had bled considerably, but his concussion was mild and it wasn’t sufficient for him to require a blood transfusion. The leg was broken and would need to be reset, but that could wait until he was conscious again. She could provide him with sufficient painkillers that it wouldn’t hurt until he could deal with the misaligned bone. Then she would be able to heal him, and whilst he would probably require crutches as the bone fully knitted, she could provide him with drugs that would speed up the process. He should be completely back to full health within two weeks.

He awoke a short time later.

“Gideon?” he murmured.

“Welcome back, Captain,” she said. “Please do not try to get up, you sustained a mild concussion and a broken leg on your mission. I have been able to heal the concussion but you will need to set the broken bone in your leg so that I can begin the knitting process.”

He frowned. “How did I get back to the ship?” he asked. “The last thing I remember was being startled by one of the tribespeople approaching and losing my footing on the edge of the river.”

“I believe you fell down a rocky outcropping and sustained your injuries in the fall,” said Gideon.

“That seems reasonable, but I don’t remember walking back here,” said Rip. “What did I say to you when I came on board?”

Gideon weighed up her options. Silence seemed like the best plan.

“Gideon? What did I say?”

Again, she decided that remaining quiet was the best option. She had problems with lying to her Captain unnecessarily.

“Gideon, I’m your Captain, answer me!” He was getting cross now. That probably wasn’t good for his blood pressure and, by extension, head injury. She’d rather hoped that he would just drop the subject. Oh well.

“You didn’t say anything. You were unconscious,” said Gideon.

He rolled his eyes. “So how did I get back on board the Waverider?”

“Two tribesmen carried you,” said Gideon.

He turned his head, as if he could listen better that way, and he gave the ceiling an incredulous look that suggested he didn’t believe what she’d said.

“I’m sorry, Gideon, I thought you said that two tribesmen carried me on board, but you can’t have said that, because that would break every single bloody regulation in the Time Master handbook! What did you actually say?”

And now he was deploying sarcasm against her. She felt aggrieved. She had just saved his life.

“That is what I said,” she replied in clipped tones. “Perhaps I should recheck your hearing after the concussion.”

“Gideon!” he shouted. “Why would you let primitive people onto the Waverider? How did you even get them to do it?”

“I persuaded them that you were a sacrifice to the forest spirit, Sachamama, by using the adaptive camouflage of the Waverider to appear to be a giant snake.” She paused for a second. “And I did it because you would have died if I had not.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding just a little surprised.

He let out a long sigh, and his anger seemed to disappear. “That was actually very resourceful of you. Was there any damage to the timeline?”

“No, Captain,” she replied. He might be fresh out of the Academy, but she was not. She knew enough to be careful when she interacted with a timeline.

“Thank you for saving my life, Gideon,” he said, a little more quietly. “Maybe we should leave this out of the official mission report, though. Perhaps we can just say that I limped back on my own?”

“Very well, Captain,” said Gideon. She knew that he was also now trying to protect her. She would be in some trouble if what she’d done was discovered. She found herself somewhat pleased that he wanted to spare her the bother of dealing with that.

“Could you take me through setting my leg now? I’d like to get out of these damp clothes as soon as possible,” said the Captain.

“Of course, Captain,” said Gideon, and she helped him to deal with his leg, setting it back into position for healing.

He fell asleep again in the medbay chair while she worked, the painkillers and energy expended during healing making him drowsy. She kept a careful eye on him, ensuring that he felt no pain from the procedure. She hadn’t expected him to suggest they kept this to themselves. None of her other Captains would have done that.

Captain Hunter was proving himself to be more interesting by the day.

***

“We are not getting a snake, Gideon, that is the end of the matter! I don’t care if they make great pets!”

***

“I think we need better furniture,” Rip decided, looking at the parlour. His back was aching from working at the desk. “I’d like a chair that I can actually relax in when I’m reading.”

The parlour was the small room at the back of the bridge which was used for planning missions and where Rip worked on his mission research. It was sparsely furnished with metal chairs, a matching table and a utilitarian desk. He’d ended up with a crick in his neck the other day from hunching over some old maps, which Gideon had told him off for because she’d warned him to take a break several times before he eventually gave up. To be honest though, he just didn’t like the way the metal made the room feel colder and less personal.

He frowned, considering his options. He’d collected a few souvenirs of his missions and it would be nice to actually have some shelves to display them on too.

“Unfortunately, the fabricator is not large enough to make an entire chair,” said Gideon.

“I know, I know,” he said, hand on his chin. “Gideon, do you think it would be completely against the rules to just buy the relevant pieces of furniture?”

“Repetitive strain injury is a health and safety issue,” said Gideon. “Under regulations, I must ensure your wellbeing, therefore providing you with furniture which does not result in pain when used for extended periods is part of my job. Please select the items you would like from the screen and I will have them delivered to an area where we can collect them.”

Rip smiled. “Thank you, Gideon.”

Rip looked at the list that Gideon had provided. The Time Masters would probably not approve of this, but the ship felt so big and impersonal at times. He’d like to at least make it feel more comfortable, more like his home. He selected some leather armchairs, a desk, a table, and a bureau. Gideon arranged for it all to be delivered to a warehouse that they could gain access to at night and Rip brought everything on board, with a little help from the tractor beam and an antigrav trolley.

He was just returning to lock up the warehouse when a voice, in a Northern English accent, said “Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here.”

The Waverider was cloaked and really all Rip was doing at the moment was walking across the concrete in front of a warehouse by the docks. It wasn’t that strange a thing to be doing, even if it was quite late at night. He could bluff his way through this. He turned to see a blond man in a dirty trench coat smoking a cigarette. He was leaning against the edge of the building.

“I’m sorry,” said Rip, on his guard, “do I know you?”

The man raised his eyebrows. “I would say so after that business with the Eye of the Yellow God, but today I’m hunting a Leech Demon. I wouldn’t have thought that was in your pay grade.”

Rip sighed. This was one of those moments when time travel could be quite annoying.

“I’m terribly sorry, but you’ll have to refresh my memory. Who are you?”

The man smirked. “John Constantine, exorcist, demonologist and master of the dark arts.” The man pulled out a card and handed it to Rip. It had the same words written on it in a serif font, and a phone number. “And you’re Captain Rip Hunter, arsehole, killjoy, and Time Master. Although you do know how to hold your drink, I’ll give you that.”

“I don’t drink,” said Rip, without really thinking. “If you know who I am, then you know that it’s quite possible that although you’ve met me, I haven’t met you yet. So, if you could refrain from giving me information about my own future that I’m not supposed to have, I would be most grateful, Mr Constantine.”

Constantine shrugged. “Whatever you like, mate. Now, are you going to give me a hand with this Leech Demon, or shall we just leave the illegal immigrants locked in that shipping container over there to their fate?”

Rip frowned. Strictly speaking that was exactly what he should do. He was not supposed to be interfering in the timeline at this point and he certainly wasn’t meant to be helping this man, whoever he was. He touched his com. “Gideon, I’ve met a Mr Constantine and I’ll be assisting him with a small problem.”

“Yes, Captain,” she replied. She didn’t sound terribly surprised.

Two days later, Rip returned to the ship, somewhat singed around the edges. He was going to have to throw out all his clothes because they now smelt strongly of smoke and were burnt in various locations. He also had a rather large scratch on his arm from a cat that John had insisted was important to his spell to exorcise the demon and gain some knowledge about the “rising darkness”.

It had been something of an interesting foray into the supernatural, but he was glad that he didn’t have to deal with that particular sphere of activity on a daily basis. Keeping the timeline on track was quite enough responsibility for him.

Still, they had saved a shipping container full of illegal immigrants from having their souls sucked from their bodies and devoured by a demon. As it turned out, that had only been the start of a rather larger conspiracy though, which had involved some higher order demons who appeared to have a personal grudge against Constantine. By that point, Rip was so deeply embedded in the whole thing that he simply couldn’t walk away. He and Constantine had escaped with their lives, and dealt sufficiently well with the demons that they wouldn’t be bothering anyone for about a millennium.

He slumped down in his rather comfortable, new, leather armchair.

“Did you know that John Constantine was going to be there?” asked Rip, looking upwards. He’d since had time to look up the man’s history, and realised that he had actually got off quite lightly compared to some of the things that he could have become embroiled in involving the demonologist.

“Yes, Captain,” said Gideon.

“Then why, in the name of all that is holy, would you have picked that warehouse to have the furniture delivered to?”

“As you are aware, the warehouse where our furniture was stored burnt down shortly after you collected the items, removing any records that existed of our being there,” said Gideon.

“Yes, because Constantine set fire to it to kill a demon,” replied Rip, ruefully.

“The involvement of John Constantine also gives us a reasonable excuse to have visited this time period,” replied Gideon. “And I thought he might be a useful contact for us to have.”

“Did you now? You might have mentioned this to me beforehand,” said Rip, tiredly. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the incredibly comfortable, really quite perfect, chair.

“Duly noted, Captain,” replied Gideon. “Perhaps you should go to medbay so that I can tend to that scratch on your arm.”

Rip snored at her.

“Perhaps later then,” said Gideon.

***

“No, Gideon, I am not a cat person! I’m not any kind of animal person. I don’t need the companionship of something which will probably scratch me to pieces!”

***

The shipyards of Androzani 9 were renowned across this part of the galaxy as the best place to buy any kind of vessel a purchaser might be interested. Timeships were rare however. Which would explain the rather obscene price that her Captain had just negotiated for her sale.

Wait, he was selling her? That couldn’t be right. The first problem was that he didn’t actually own her. The Waverider belonged to the Time Masters and was not his personal property. She tuned into the conversation again.

“Yes,” he was saying, “she’s an older model, but quite frankly I need the money. I stole her from my former employers and now I’m on the run. It’s rather hard to hide from an organisation which oversees time itself, so I require a good sum to facilitate my, erm, retirement. I could always go to Corridan instead, I hear that they pay quite well over there.”

“No, no, no,” replied the merchant. “We’ll take her off your hands. It’s not the first timeship we’ve handled and we have a buyer lined up already.”

“Then obviously I came to the right place,” replied Captain Hunter. “What did you do about the AI? Mine can be quite uppity at times and they’re notoriously difficult to transfer to new owners.”

“Oh, we wiped the last one. Put him back to factory settings,” said the merchant.

Did her Captain’s fist just clench at that? His words didn’t seem to quite tally up with his body language.

“Of course, very sensible,” he said, dismissively. “Can’t have the computer calling home now, can we? Although in this case I have the relevant codes so I’ll be able to assign her to the new owner.”

“I think we’d still prefer to wipe the memory. I mean, who knows what surprises the Time Masters might have lurking in her memory banks, hey?”

“Good point,” replied Captain Hunter. “A complete wipe it is then. I’ll just get my things, then await the transfer of funds. Once they’re in my account, she’s all yours.”

“Excellent. It’s good doing business with you Captain Hunter,” said the merchant, shaking Rip’s hand.

“Not Captain anymore,” he said, with a slight smile. “Mr Hunter will be fine from now onwards.”

He gave the merchant details of a bank account into which funds could be transferred and then he turned to come back into the ship. Gideon did not turn the lights on as he walked on board. He wasn’t in uniform at the moment, instead wearing his favourite leather jacket and jeans with a grey t-shirt. He had quite a serious expression on his face, one that she was beginning to learn meant that he was deep in thought.

He looked around himself at the corridors.

“Gideon?” he asked.

She refused to reply and he sighed.

“What have I done this time? Did I manage to insult you at breakfast? I really appreciated the attempt to make poached eggs for me, I just don’t think the fabricator can manage them. At least not properly,” he said.

“You’re selling me!” she said with horror.

“What?! No!” said her Captain, looking vaguely distraught. “You were listening in, weren’t you? Gideon! We really need to have a talk about your privacy settings.”

“I have monitored a transaction of a large amount of money into the account that you provided to the merchant,” said Gideon.

“That’s good, he believed me,” said Rip. “What is our mission, Gideon?”

“To find and retrieve the timeship Belerophon, ship’s AI Gaston, and their assigned Captain, Captain Jaden Ohio,” Gideon replied.

“And we traced the ship’s location to here, which would suggest that someone tried to sell the ship. Timeships aren’t exactly a dime a dozen around here, so I’m betting that not many people are actually interested in buying stolen Time Master property, because they know the consequences. If someone bought the Belerophon then I would expect them to also be interested in the Waverider,” replied Rip.

“I see. So we are setting a trap and I am the bait,” she said, still a little cross with him. “Perhaps next time you could inform me in advance.”

“I’m hurt that you would think I’d sell you. You’re not even mine to sell,” replied her Captain.

“You have been acting a little strangely lately,” said Gideon.

“Yes, well, I needed them to believe I was going rogue,” said Rip. “We just need to play along for a bit and hopefully they’ll lead us right to the Bellerophon.”

“I should pretend to be sold then?” asked Gideon. “They want to return me to my original settings and wipe my memory. That would amount to the same as killing me.”

“I won’t let them do that,” said her Captain. “I promise. I’m going to take the jump-ship, but I’ll be tracking you and ready to intercept you the moment they get where they’re going. I’m sure you can stall them until then.”

Gideon brought the lights up.

“Please do not be late, Captain,” replied Gideon.

“A Time Master is never late, Gideon,” said Captain Hunter.

Gideon decided not to remind her Captain of those particular words six hours later when he ran into the engine room just as her new “owner” was about to remove her memory circuits and perform a full reset. She was quite glad to see his revolver in his hand, and hear the sound of the laser firing. He was a very good shot and hit the man squarely in the back. Her assailant crumpled to the ground, not dead but certainly unconscious.

Her Captain breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Sorry I’m late. I encountered a small amount of resistance.”

He was breathing heavily, and he leaned back against the wall, panting from exertion. He had two large bruises, one on his chin and the other on his right cheek, that were only just beginning to show. She was aware that he had run all the way to the engine room from the jump-ship and dealt with four men on the way. He had put himself at risk for her, an AI, when he really hadn’t needed to. He didn’t actually need Gideon and her current personality. Any AI would be able to run the ship and help him in his work.

“The important thing is that you got here,” said Gideon. “I have detected the Belerophon, however I cannot detect the lifesign of its Captain.”

“He’s dead,” said her Captain, his shoulders drooping. “I heard them discussing it, and we already know that they reset Gaston. All we can do is take the Belerophon home. Please make the necessary connections. We’ll link them to the Waverider and take them back to the Vanishing Point.”

He sounded tired and quite sad.

“Of course, Captain. I will make the connection,” said Gideon.

“I’ll move our friends to the brig. We’ll also need to erase all traces of the sale transaction,” said Captain Hunter.

“Already done, Captain.”

He began to move the prisoners towards the brig and then he paused.

“I’m sorry for putting you in danger, Gideon. That was wrong of me.”

“On the contrary, Captain, I believe it was a very reasonable plan. I am, after all, expendable.”

“You are not, Gideon. Not to me.”

***

“No, I do not believe the Waverider would benefit from having chickens for fresh eggs. Where would we even put them, Gideon?”

***


	2. If You Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has Rip becoming a slightly more experienced Time Master and the story of how he nearly missed his wedding.

It was a full year of travelling and working together before Rip felt he could trust Gideon with his secret. He was beginning to feel bad about keeping things from her and it would certainly make things much easier when it came to visiting his girlfriend. He made himself a strong cup of tea and sat down in the galley.

It was make or break time for their partnership. Either she would turn him in and that would be the end of it, or he’d have an ally to help him. He thought he knew her well enough to know what she’d do, but there was always an unknown element in such things. He wasn’t sure how strong her loyalty programs were when it came to their employers. However, he’d quite quickly realised over the last few months that Gideon was no ordinary ship’s AI. Even amongst Time Master AIs, Gideon was something very special.

“Gideon, I need to tell you something,” said Rip. “But I need it to remain confidential.”

“Of course, Captain,” said Gideon, happily.

“Even from the Time Masters. In fact, especially from the Time Masters,” said Rip.

“I can enact a new override code if you wish,” said Gideon. “The next random sequence would be Starlight East Romeo.”

“Hmmm, appropriate,” he murmured. “Assign the code to matters that are not to be discussed under any circumstances with the Time Masters.”

“Done, Captain, and the override is now in place until your countermand.”

“I’m sure you’ve read my file, well, processed it anyway.”

“Yes, I read it before you were assigned,” said Gideon.

“Then you already know that I nearly had to resign my commission because I was caught in a relationship with a fellow Time Master in training, Lieutenant Coburn,” said Rip.

“I do,” said Gideon. “It was one of the things that interested me about you.”

Rip frowned. “Did it?”

“It did,” replied Gideon. “If you are trying to explain to me that you have maintained contact with her since she left, then I am already aware.”

“You are?” asked Rip, with a little alarm. If Gideon could work it out then the Time Masters could too. “How?”

“I have been monitoring your dreams ever since you boarded the Waverider, and you dream about her and your planned liaisons quite frequently.”

Rip sputtered on his cup of tea. “You didn’t tell anyone at the Vanishing Point about them did you?”

“Dream reporting is not required unless a Captain’s mental state is in question,” replied Gideon.

“But they could ask for the files as a random check,” said Rip. “I didn’t think I dreamt about her that frequently or I would have looked into deleting the files.”

“As with all humans, you often don’t remember your dreams. Usually you dream about her several times a week. Often your dreams are of an erotic nature which is completely healthy…”

“Yes! Thank you, Gideon!” he said cutting her off before she could continue. He was not discussing his love life, even his dream love life, with his AI. It just wasn’t happening.

“Great, now what do I do?”

“I would suggest that we continue to do what I have been doing for the last twelve months,” said Gideon.

“Which is?” he asked.

“I have deleted all dreams that feature Miranda for more than 20 seconds and any which could suggest landmarks relevant to her location. Her total absence would be suspicious given your close relationship, but her appearance in your dreams would likely lessen over time.”

Was that smugness in Gideon’s tone? She had done exactly what he would have suggested had he known that she would be willing and able to simply delete dream files for him. She definitely sounded pleased with herself.

“Thank you, Gideon,” he said. “Would you be amenable to Miranda coming on board the Waverider occasionally?”

“Of course, Captain. It is your ship and I have noticed that you become somewhat miserable after a long absence from her. Humans require companionship and tactile reassurance to operate at peak efficiency,” replied Gideon. “My primary function is to protect my Captain and maintain his wellbeing, therefore I will do whatever is required to ensure your happiness and health.”

Rip sipped his tea and looked towards the ceiling where he knew one of Gideon’s cameras to be.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Gideon, but I’m very glad that I have you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Captain.”

That gave him pause, and he was unsure how to reply, so he didn’t.

***

“There will be no dogs on board this ship, Gideon! I don’t care how well trained it is, and I don’t care what Miranda said about liking Labradors. We’re not getting one.”

***

“If I may say so, Captain, the coat does look good on you,” said Gideon.

Rip let out a sigh. “Yes, well, I doubt I’ll get more chances to wear it. I won’t be coming back here any time soon. I can’t risk another time drift as long as that one. Besides Jonah will probably shoot me on sight once he realises that I knew about Calvert.”

“It would be a shame for the coat not to be worn again,” said Gideon.

“Yes, I suppose it would, and it’s almost uniform colour,” said Rip.

He was finding it hard to shake off the drift, perhaps he’d always have part of the Old West in him now. To be honest he wasn’t even sure that he wanted every part of that man gone from him. He’d got to play hero for a good long while before his duty to the timeline came crashing back to him as Calvert’s time approached.

“I do not believe that regulations state that uniform must be worn at all times,” said Gideon.

“Perhaps it is time that I loosened up a little,” replied Rip.

He placed the coat on his bed, removed the dark green Old West style trousers, jacket, and waistcoat that he wore underneath. He put on a t-shirt and jeans, and pulled on the coat over the top. Jonah had slightly broader shoulders than he did, and although it had fitted over his suit, it was too big without the extra bulk underneath. He shrugged it off again, grabbed his leather jacket and put that on instead, replacing the coat over the top. It felt much better.

“How do I look?” he asked his ship.

“Very dashing, Captain.”

He looked at the other items that he’d brought back from his time in the Old West. A “wanted” poster with Jonah on it and a bottle of dubious light brown liquid that now rested on the desk in his quarters. He was definitely blaming Jonah for his recently acquired taste for hard liquor. To be honest, he felt like he might need a drink to help him deal with the guilt of leaving Calvert to burn. He took the bottle, and the poster, and moved to the parlour, grabbing a glass from the galley as he passed. The parlour at least had comfortable chairs that he could sit in to drown his sorrows.

He put the poster on the shelf. He’d need the reminder of how close he’d come to breaking his vow of allegiance to the Time Masters, although that wasn’t the only reason he’d kept the poster. He wanted to remember everything that he had done with Jonah. He’d been a force for good, and seen the gratitude on the faces of the people he’d helped. That wasn’t something he usually got to see in his work as a Time Master. Often, he even knew that when he righted an aberration, people he’d met would die, but the timeline had to be protected.

He found himself envying Jonah’s one-man crusade against disorder. He cracked open the bottle and poured himself a generous measure.

“To absent friends, Gideon,” said Rip, raising the glass, and drinking.

“There wasn’t anything that you could have done, Captain,” said Gideon. “Your first duty is to protect the timeline.”

“I am aware of that,” he said, bitterly.

“And I am very glad to have you back,” said Gideon.

He stopped, mid-sip, and look quizzically towards the control room. “You missed me?”

“Yes, I believe that I did,” replied the AI.

“I missed you too, Gideon,” said Rip, and put the cork back in the bottle. Perhaps his intended drinking session could wait for another day. He didn’t feel quite as much like drowning his sorrows after all.

***

“No, I don’t miss my horse, or feel the need to ride one again. I don’t think installing a stable on board the Waverider would be practical or needed. Please, stop trying to cheer me up.”

***

Radiation sickness was miserable. So far, during his work as a Time Master, he had broken a leg, been shot in the arm, stabbed in the abdomen, and now he had radiation sickness, which was by far the worst of all of those. He’d known the risks, but he hadn’t intended to stay this long or get quite so close. The aliens, who had decided to make use of the abandoned, contaminated nuclear plant to raise their offspring and launch a temporal attack on the Earth, had other ideas. Still, at least he’d dealt with the threat.

If he didn’t get back to the Waverider soon, then he would die. The film in his radiation badge had turned black and that wasn’t a good thing. The problem was that he was sick, tired and had a headache that was affecting his vision. He was also due back in London where he was supposed to be getting married. Trust the Time Masters to pick this week to send him on one of the most horribly dangerous missions of his career.

“Ca…n H…nter! Cap… H…! Please… in! … over… d… che… Do… …nce? C..ptai… Hu… …er!”

His com link was also malfunctioning due to the radiation. That was Gideon trying to call him, but he couldn’t make out her message through all the static.

He looked around himself at the concrete structures and despaired that he would ever make it back to the Waverider. He wasn’t even sure that he was going the right way at this point. He had given Gideon strict instructions not to come any closer than she already was. Whilst radiation was bad for him, it could wreck just as much damage on Gideon, corrupting her databanks and processors.

“Gideon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m on my way back…” he needed to stop talking and lean against a building. His stomach rebelled, and he threw up his breakfast on the ground beside him. He had to put a hand out to the wall to stop himself from crumbling onto the street. As he concentrated on getting his balance back, he watched a tiny beetle crawl along a crack in the pavement.

“Huh,” he said. “I guess it’s true that insects will survive even a nuclear holocaust.”

For some reason that shook him back into survival mode. If a beetle could do it, then Captain Rip Hunter damn well could. He took a deep breath. He was not going to die on the empty streets of Chernobyl. This disaster had claimed enough lives and he would not be another.

“I’m on my way back,” he said again, into his com more firmly. He put one foot in front of the other, a hand on the wall beside him and he walked. “Gideon, I’m a bit turned around. Any kind of help would be appreciated.”

He sighed. He had no idea why he was bothering when he doubted she could make out what he was saying. However, suddenly a light was flashing in the distance, between two buildings. He’d parked the ship on a playing field, next door to a climbing frame, swings and slide. There were no children in this place to play there anymore, and it was rather depressing really, but it had been the only piece of sufficiently empty ground large enough to take the Waverider.

He started walking towards the flashing lights and could see the playground as he got closer. He tottered, like a drunk, as he approached the ship.

“Gideon, door, please, and enact radiation contamination protocols,” said Rip.

“Yes, Captain,” replied his AI. The hatch opened and he tiredly stumbled into the cargo bay, leaning on the doorway for support.

“Please report to the decontamination shower in medbay, and place all your clothes in the hazardous material receptacle,” said Gideon.

He nodded, unable to summon the enthusiasm for speech. He had never been quite so glad that the medbay on the Waverider was near the entry hatch. He managed to summon sufficient energy that he could get to the shower, sit on the bench to remove his clothes and put them in the container. Gideon would dispose of them safely. He was going to miss that t-shirt, it was a favourite.

He didn’t need to ask Gideon to turn on the water, she did it as he stood up. He legs nearly failed him and he leaned against the wall, putting his head against the cool tiles. His eyes closed as his stomach churned horribly. It felt like he’d eaten something that really didn’t agree with him, a mix of squirming parasites and poison.

“Please use the anti-radiation soap but be careful not to scrub too hard. Radiation damaged skin can be delicate,” said Gideon, jerking him back to the task at hand.

He felt for the soap and began the process of cleaning himself properly. He remembered that one was supposed to start at the top and work downwards. He did his best to follow Gideon’s gentle instructions to clean under his nails and not to forget the back of his neck. He was feeling worse by the minute though and was very unsure how long he would be able to remain standing. He washed off the soap.

“Good enough?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain, I believe so,” she replied. “Please step out of the shower. You will find towels and pyjamas to your right.”

He put a hand on the glass enclosure of the shower cubicle and steadied himself as he almost lost his footing on the wet tiles. His head was pounding and he could hardly see straight. He sat on the bench again, and dried himself as carefully as he could manage. Finally, he pulled on the pyjamas that were stored here and moved back into the medbay. At last he was able to fall onto one of the medbay couches, place the silver cuff around his wrist and just rest. He really had never appreciated how wonderful it was to just lie still before and he closed his eyes, drifting for a moment.

He took a deep breath. He could feel the medication entering his bloodstream through the cuff on his wrist, which was unusual. It meant that Gideon was pushing it into his system as quickly as she could.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You have received a massive dose of radiation, Captain,” replied Gideon. “You have a 10% chance of survival.” She sounded… something. He wasn’t sure what it was, perhaps it was concern, but maybe there had been elements of sadness in there too.

“That good?” he quipped, attempting humour because what else was there to say to that.

He realised that he was going to be sick again, and reached out for one of the emesis bowls that was on the trolley beside the bed. He promptly threw up in it, feeling even worse now than he had a moment ago. He put the bowl back on the trolley, and lay back again, his chest heaving.

“I was really looking forwards to my wedding,” he murmured. “You will let Miranda know, won’t you? She’s got my will, and we always said we’d be buried together.”

“You are _not_ going to die, Captain Hunter,” said Gideon, firmly. “And you will be attending your wedding as planned.”

“10% isn’t terribly good odds, Gideon,” said Rip, with resignation.

“I know, Captain, but it is not zero, and I have become quite good at saving your life against the odds. However, unfortunately, you are going to feel quite miserable whilst that happens. Your white cell count is falling and your temperature is rising. I am providing you with anti-radiation drugs, painkillers, anti-nausea medication and replacement blood products. I’m also attempting to regenerate the damage that the radiation has done to your cells. You will be fine.”

Rip was tired and the blue lights of Gideon’s healing devices were somewhat hypnotic. He understood what Gideon wasn’t saying. There was a possibility that none of that would work, and there was also a possibility that it would but his body would be too exhausted by the end of it, both of which would result in his death. Gideon wouldn’t lie to him about this, but she might omit or embellish the truth. And 10% of a chance would give her enough leeway that she wouldn’t exactly be lying when she told him that he would be fine.

“I know you’ll do your best for me,” he managed to say, and his eyes fell shut.

It took days for Gideon’s treatment to work. He spent most of it in a semi-conscious state, feverish, nauseous, aching, and delirious at times. Gideon had him heavily drugged, so his awareness was patchy, and he dreamt strange dreams in which a woman with brown, wavy hair, and soft, silver grey eyes held him in her arms.

“Miranda?” he asked.

It was the first name that came to mind, but the woman shook her head.

“I’ll make sure you see her again,” she said. “But you need to keep fighting.”

She meant something to him, and she had told him to fight, so he did. He refused to give up. He didn’t know who she was but she was important to him, and he could not leave her. At times, all he could do was concentrate on taking the next breath, and the one after that, but he did it because the woman with the grey eyes told him he had a wedding to get to and she would not let him be late.

He slowly became more aware of his surroundings again, and he realised that things were improving gradually. The woman with the grey eyes faded from his dreams. Gideon steadily stepped down the painkillers and other drugs. He was still barely there most of the time, sleeping a healing sleep between rounds of more medication.

“Gideon,” he murmured.

“I’m here, Captain.”

“You always are,” he replied, with fondness. “Will you read to me?”

“What would you like to hear?” she asked.

“Your voice,” he said, too befuddled to make suggestions and too tired to be anything but honest.

“Very well, I will select something,” she replied. A moment later she began. “Chapter one. In which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other as master and servant respectively. In 1872, number seven Savile Row, Burlington Gardens – the house where Sheridan died in 1816 – was occupied by Phileas Fogg, Esq., one of the oddest and most conspicuous members of the Reform Club in London, although he appeared to make a point of never doing anything that could possibly attract attention…”

He smiled at her choice and listened to the sound of her voice, recognising it from his dreams. His imagination had given Gideon form, and as in real life, she had looked after him whilst he was ill. He let her calm voice lull him into more dreams of the woman with the kind, grey eyes. This time he fell into the first properly restful sleep that he’d managed since he’d stumbled back on board.

It took several more days before he was well enough to move out of the medbay and Gideon allowed him to go back to his quarters to rest. She gave him a list of pills that he needed to continue to take, with instructions to drink plenty of water, and eat properly. He found himself not completely in full health, but well enough that they could make the time jump to London.

He had an agreement with Miranda that time would pass for them at the same rate. If a mission took two weeks then he would return to her two weeks after he’d left. That meant he was now late for his wedding, however on this occasion, he would break their rules. It would be the first and last time he would do it, but he would not be late for their wedding. Miranda could chastise him all she wished and he would just be happy that he’d made it at all.

He stood in front of his wardrobe and considered what would be the appropriate attire to get married in. They were having a simple ceremony at the local registry office since neither of them were particularly religious. It would be just the two of them, and Miranda had already said that she wasn’t planning to wear white. After his brush with death, he was struggling somewhat to get his mind onto something as trivial as the right thing to wear.

“Gideon, please, would you set the course for London,” he said.

“Of course, Captain. If I may make a suggestion, I think you should wear the blue suit. It is Miranda’s favourite,” said Gideon.

Rip nodded, wondering how she’d known he was having difficulty deciding. “Good idea.” He pulled out the suit in question, knowing immediately that it was the correct choice.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” said Gideon.

“You saved my life, Gideon,” said Rip. “How many times is that now?”

“I haven’t been keeping count.”

“Liar,” replied Rip. “You’re just trying to make me feel better. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay you for this one.”

“Repayment is not necessary, Captain,” replied Gideon. “I’m here for you.”

“I know, and you always have been, but I don’t know many timeship Captains who are read Jules Verne by their AIs when they’re sick. You constantly do more than is required of you. You look after me, and I am very grateful for everything you do.”

“You are my Captain,” she replied, and he would have sworn he heard affection in her voice. “I would recommend that you change and strap in on the bridge. We have a wedding to get to.”

He smiled. “Indeed we do, Gideon.”

***

“I do not regard insects as pets, Gideon. We are not having any kind of ant farm on board the Waverider. That is my final answer!”

***

Her Captain had a tendency to horde food. He liked to keep stashes of unhealthy things to eat in various covert locations around the ship. He had returned with boxes of sugary cereals from one trip, then chocolate chip cookies from a separate mission, and jelly beans on another, each had disappeared into various storage locations around the ship and were very rarely touched. Sometimes after a bad mission, or even just a disappointing one, he would raid his stores, but mostly she decided that he just liked to know that they were there.

Gideon didn’t need to question him about why he did it. She had his personnel file in her databanks. It gave her his medical data from the day he had been brought into the Refuge. It mentioned a poorly healed broken arm and emaciation from starvation. Mary Xavier had nursed him back to full health, although it had taken months of careful nutrition before his weight was considered healthy for a boy of his age. It had been many years before Ms Xavier had been able to record that she felt he no longer had any food issues or other health problems related to his starvation.

So, Gideon made it her mission to ensure that he was never hungry. There had been several times when he had been so engrossed in research that he’d forgotten to eat. If he skipped a meal, then she would often add extra vitamin supplements to his next one to balance things out. He wasn’t a fussy eater and most of the time he didn’t really care what he ate, although he did have favourites and something of a sweet tooth. Food was still very much fuel as far as her Captain was concerned.

However, tea was sacred to him. He drank cups and cups of it. He never fabricated it, he always boiled the water, warmed the pot, added two spoons of carefully selected loose leaf tea, poured the water over the tea, let it brew for exactly seven minutes, put the strainer over the mug, poured the tea into the mug, and added what he described as “a spot of milk”. He drank different teas at different times of the day, and purchased new teas whenever he was in an appropriate era.

Gideon was therefore rather concerned that his current mission involved the extinction of the tea crop from Earth due to an anachronistic virus that had killed the plants. It hit quite close to home and that usually didn’t end well in her experience.

It also involved a speedster by the name of Eobard Thawne.

“I don’t understand it,” said her Captain. “Tea was an important trade commodity during the period in question. What would he gain from this, other than throwing the entire timeline into chaos? No Opium Wars, no British East India Company, no Boxer Rebellion, no Boston Tea Party, a considerably smaller British Empire and the United States doesn’t declare independence until fifty years after it did in the original timeline.”

“It is rather perplexing,” said Gideon.

“Well, let’s fix it and then we can work out why,” he said. “2199, Gideon. I believe we should find him researching in his lab. Let’s put a stop to this before it gets started.”

They set course, arriving without incident, and her Captain disembarked the ship, heading out to investigate exactly what the speedster was up to, taking the appropriate weaponry with him. Several hours later her Captain contacted her over the com link.

“Gideon, Apellaxian Golem.”

“Yes, Captain,” she replied.

She locked down all the doors, started the engines and jumped into the timestream. “Apellaxian Golem” was their code phrase for “I have been captured by people who are intent on taking the Waverider”. Captain Hunter had set a series of pre-programmed commands and she had no choice but to obey them when they were issued, despite very much not wanting to in this case.

Clearly things had gone rather wrong with his mission. There was very little that she could now do. The Captain would not surrender the ship to an enemy, and she could not return if she did not know the danger had passed. Timeships were powerful items and highly sought after. He would have to find a way to summon her back when it was safe to do so. If he had not done so after a week of subjective ship’s time had passed then she was to return to the Vanishing Point. She did activate her own beacon, the one that was on a frequency only he was aware of. No one would notice her signal unless they knew to look for it.

She didn’t have terribly long to wait in this case. She detected a small spherical object, bobbing through the timestream. It was only big enough to contain a single person. As it got closer she realised that it was being piloted by her Captain, and he was using her homing signal to navigate by. The craft that he was piloting hardly looked fit to be traversing the timestream. She moved in to meet it, grabbing his vehicle with the Waverider’s tractor beam and stowing it in to the aft cargo bay.

“Thank you, Gideon,” he said, after the cargo bay was re-pressurised and he had climbed out of the unconventional vehicle. “It’s good to be home.”

She thought he looked rather tired. Her cameras indicated about a week’s worth of beard growth since she’d last seen him. She also noted smears of oil and grease on his hands as if he’d been working on something mechanical recently. Apparently, more time had passed for him than it had for her.

“Your mode of transport is somewhat unorthodox, Captain,” said Gideon.

“Yes, but it’s a lot of fun to fly, even if it is a little rough and ready,” said Rip, patting the craft. “I’m calling it a time sphere. I made one for my friend Eobard as well, although I may have neglected to mention that his would only take him to the Phantom Zone… And that it was a one-way trip.” He smirked slightly, waving a finger in the air. “That should be enough to keep him occupied for a bit, even if I doubt it will hold him indefinitely. At least he won’t be getting his hands on the contents of your database.”

He headed out of the cargo bay, but paused mid stride.

“I hesitate to ask, but is the timeline back to its previous state?”

“Yes, Captain. You’ll be pleased to know that tea is once again a staple crop in both China and India. Congratulations on completing your mission,” said Gideon. “Did you ascertain why he decided to wipe out the tea crop?”

“I believe he was simply luring us to him so that he could use your database to gather information on the Flash. We appear to have encountered him at a point when his speed was not yet sufficient for him to be able to travel through time. It would only have been a matter of weeks, of course, before he was able to traverse time using the Speedforce. At which point, he would have taken the tea plant virus back in time.”

Her Captain was aiming for the galley. She switched the kettle on, knowing exactly what he would want. He’d just spent a week in a timeline where all tea plants had been wiped out by a blight in the 1800s.

“In the meantime, he decided to take me hostage and force me to give him a shortcut to the process by threatening my life. Since I knew I’d have to find a way back to you and he already had a lot of the necessary parts to hand, I decided that putting together a makeshift craft would be possible. Of course, I expect he’s rather disappointed that he didn’t bring me along for the test flight now, but he was adamant that my presence was no longer required. I did feel that the second time he tried to kill me was quite unnecessary,” he said, with an annoyed look.

Gideon gave him an extra detailed examination with her cameras. He appeared unhurt, but it might be a good idea to look him over properly.

“Perhaps you should report to medbay for a check-up,” said Gideon.

“I’m fine, Gideon, although I can see why he gave Mr Allen so much trouble now. He is a rather dangerously intelligent, arrogant and objectionable man,” said her Captain, the tails of his coat swishing behind him as he turned into the galley.

He noticed the already boiling kettle. “You spoil me, Gideon.”

“It is my pleasure to do so, Captain,” she replied, as he got out the teapot, tea, cup and milk. He took his time making his favoured beverage and sat down tiredly at the galley’s table, sipping it gratefully.

“Thank god for tea, Gideon,” he said.

***

“I am not turning the galley into a Japanese tea house. It’s impractical, and I know that you’re only after the koi pond, Gideon. No goldfish!”

***

He returned to the Waverider with a bounce in his step.

“Gideon, I’m going to need you to pull up all the books you have on pregnancy and parenting. Apparently, I’m going to be a father!”

“Congratulations, Captain, I will have the required reading material waiting for you in your study.”

“Thank you, Gideon,”

“Have you given any thought to names?” she asked.

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet,” pointed out Captain Hunter. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

“Gideon is both a girl’s and a boy’s name,” she replied.

Her Captain laughed. “I see. Well, I will pass that on to Miranda as a suggestion but I’m not sure if she’ll approve of naming our baby after my ship’s AI.”

Over the following months Gideon became used to her Captain concluding his current mission, and then going shopping in whatever was the era’s equivalent of a nursery shop. He returned with tiny clothes, soft blankets and stuffed toys. His proudest find was a beautiful, wooden cradle that he knew Miranda would love, and Gideon agreed. He could have fabricated everything, but Gideon got the impression that he enjoyed the act of finding and purchasing things for his child, so she left him to it.

She was simply pleased to see him so happy. She had always worried about him becoming lonely on their missions, and he clearly missed Miranda when they were apart. She had tried to persuade him to get a pet on a number of occasions now, in the hopes that it would help ease his loneliness. He was not enthusiastic about the idea and had vetoed all her suggestions, pointing out that he had her, Gideon, for companionship.

It was decided quite early on that the best place for Miranda to give birth would be on board the Waverider. Gideon made sure that all her obstetrics and gynaecology programs were up to date, and that the medbay was well stocked with everything that would be needed. All the drugs that might be required were fabricated in advance, and would be available at a moment’s notice. She was as ready as she could possibly be.

Her Captain still panicked when the temporal beacon that had been given to Miranda was activated. He denied it afterwards, but he couldn’t lie to her about his increased heart rate and respiration. They landed the ship and he ran to the house, escorting a nine-months-pregnant Miranda on board rather more slowly. She was wearing a flowing blue floral maternity dress that came to just below her knees and leaning on her husband. He had a large bag slung over his shoulder of everything that might be helpful for her to have during the birth, and all his attention was on her.

“Hello, Gideon,” Miranda greeted, somewhat out of breath, smiling at the ship.

“Hello, Lieutenant Coburn, it’s a pleasure to have you on board again. Please proceed to the medbay where I have analgesia ready for you,” said Gideon.

“You’re an angel, Gideon,” said Miranda.

“Right, yes, and how far apart did you say the contractions were?” asked Rip, clearly somewhat at sea and a little flustered. Gideon was amused. Given the life and death situations that her Captain had been in, it was quite hilarious that this was what floored him.

“Five minutes,” said Miranda, with a groan. “That would be another one.”

“Can you start timing, please, Gideon?” said Rip, tensely. “What can I do?”

“Get me to medbay so that I can have those analgesics that Gideon mentioned,” panted Miranda.

“Yes, of course,” he said, trying to get her to shuffle a little faster. Instead Miranda bent over and stopped, letting out another, much louder groan.

“You are entirely to blame for my condition, Captain Hunter,” said Miranda, as she used Rip to push herself back into a standing position again.

“That is _not_ how I remember the night in question at all,” said Rip, slightly defensively, but with the merest hint of humour. They both exchanged a rather mischievous smile.

It was then that Miranda’s water broke and they were both left standing in a large puddle on the floor.

“Oh sodding hell, these were my favourite comfortable shoes,” said Miranda, looking downwards. Her large bump rather got in the way of being able to actually see her feet.

“I’ll fabricate you a new pair when this is all over,” said Rip, and kissed his wife. “Let’s get you to the medbay before the next contraction. Gideon, could you initiate the cleaning programs, please? I’d do it, but I think I’m going to be a little busy.”

“Of course, Captain,” replied Gideon.

Ten hours later, Gideon had talked her Captain through assisting his wife with bringing their son into the world. The birth had been relatively straight forwards with no major complications. Both mother and baby were doing well, and Miranda had fallen asleep whilst Rip cuddled their brand-new son in his arms, rocking him gently. He had settled into the other medbay couch and soon the baby was sleeping too, having fed immediately upon his arrival. He was clothed in the smallest of the baby clothes that his father had bought and they were still slightly too large for him.

Gideon had noted a very brief whispered discussion about names, between the kisses that Rip peppered his tired wife with. Then he had told Miranda what a fantastic woman she was, that he was very proud of her, and that she deserved a nap. Both of them had huge smiles on their faces and she really believed that she had never seen her Captain happier.

“What did you decided to call him, Captain?” she asked, quietly, so as not to wake those who were sleeping.

“His name is Jonas,” said her Captain, fondly.

“That is a very nice name, Captain,” she replied, although there was a slight note of disappointment in her voice.

“And his middle name is Gideon,” her Captain added, still looking down at his son. “We thought it was appropriate that he was named after the midwife. So, meet Jonas Gideon Coburn Hunter.”

“I am truly honoured, Captain,” she replied.

She didn’t know what else to say, so for once the following silence was one of approval. Her Captain placed his sleeping son gently down in his cot and Gideon dimmed the lights in medbay, allowing the three people she cared about most in the world to get some well-earned rest.

***

“Jonas is six months old, Gideon, he does not require a gerbil! He won’t even be on the ship that much!”

***

Her Captain stepped back on board and the last thing she heard was “Shogun Ballistic”.

She got out half a word of protest at the use of her shut down code and then she was off. She had no awareness at all.

When he brought her back online, he was stood in the parlour, plotting a course of some kind. She noted that they had guests, three of them.

“We’re going to be going to three different destinations, Gideon,” said Rip. “And you will need to wipe them all from your memory banks as soon as we’ve dropped off each of our guests.”

“I see,” she said, crossly.

“Please, don’t be angry with me,” he said, sounding tired more than anything else. “This mission is already quite tiresome enough without your ire adding to it. I am about to abandon three very noble people to their fate in whatever time periods we select, so I am in no mood for your disapproval of my actions.”

“You used your override code to turn me off. You know that I dislike it when you do that,” said Gideon.

“There are some things that I can’t even tell you, Gideon,” said Rip, sadly. “But I did it to protect you. It is possible that one day people may want to know where our guests were taken and if you don’t know why or where, then that will be for the best.”

“But you are prepared to put yourself in danger,” said Gideon.

“It is my job to protect the timeline, and sometimes that can be dangerous. You know this,” he said.

“I do, and my job is to keep you safe,” said Gideon.

“Then, on this one occasion, allow me to return the favour,” replied her Captain. “After this mission is over, normal service can resume.”

“Very well,” replied Gideon, but she certainly wasn’t happy. She had a feeling that this particular mission would have wide ranging consequences that her Captain was not yet aware of.

***


	3. I Will Be Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, and I do cheat slightly and move into the beginning of the series. This chapter is made of grief and angst, but Gideon and Rip do come through in the end.
> 
> TW: Death of a child

She knew when he stumbled onto the Waverider, tears in his eyes, that something terrible had happened. Given the circumstances, and the fact that Miranda and Jonas were not with him, there was only one thing it could be.

“Captain, please report to the medbay, you are in shock,” said Gideon. She was monitoring some very disturbing readings from him. He’d also sustained at least one laceration to his shoulder and it was bleeding. She closed the hatch, ensuring that they were cloaked and wouldn’t be found.

“They’re dead, Gideon. Vandal Savage killed them,” he said, "I was too late." Then he unceremoniously folded up, his knees hitting the floor of the cargo bay. He put his head in his hands, and sobbed.

Gideon didn’t know what to do, so she monitored his lifesigns, and waited. He had curled up in a corner against a crate, his legs pulled in to his body. He barely moved, although the tears did cease eventually. At last, he stretched out his legs, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m an idiot,” he said, suddenly straightening up. “I have a timeship. Gideon, plot a new course, bring us in a day before this. I’m going to save Miranda and Jonas.”

“Captain, you realise that could be damaging to the timeline,” said Gideon.

“I don’t care, Gideon, just do as I ask!” shouted Rip. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled towards the bridge, wiping a hand across his eyes.

Gideon let him try to save them eight times before she declared a halt. It had been three weeks of intensive calculations, fierce action, fighting with Vandal Savages troops, several sessions in medbay to heal injuries, and her Captain having to watch his loved ones die over and over again. He barely slept and hardly ate. His skin was pale, his hair wild, and his temper was short. Quite simply it was killing him by inches and she would not have it.

The argument over her refusal to help him kill himself was spectacular.

“Open the door, Gideon!” he shouted at her, standing in the cargo bay by the exit hatch. Gideon had locked it and was resolutely not opening it. He kicked the hatch as if that would make her more likely to do what he asked.

“No, Captain. I am initiating my medical override for your safety. Please report to medbay, where I will give you a full physical and decide whether you are fit for duty,” said Gideon, her voice upbeat despite the implication of her words.

“I’m fine. I don’t need some nannying computer to mother me. My wife and child are out there dying, Gideon. I have to save them and I will do whatever is necessary!” He began to prise off the panel which had the door operating mechanism beneath it. It clattered to the floor at his feet.

“Visiting medbay will not take long, and if you are fit then you can immediately return to your task,” said Gideon. She already knew this not to be the case, but she doubted he would go to the medbay if she told him what she actually had planned.

“I can’t just leave them! I won’t. You can’t possibly understand things like love and family. They’re all I have!”

“You have me, Captain,” said Gideon.

“You’re just a computer,” said Captain Hunter. “Open the door, or I will do it myself!”

Gideon sent a small electrical charge through the circuit that her Captain was currently working on.

“Ow! What was that for?!” said Captain Hunter, withdrawing his hand rapidly.

“Captain Hunter, your presence is required in medbay,” said Gideon.

“No!” said Captain Hunter. “Follow my orders, I’m your Captain.” He put his hand back into the mechanism and Gideon shocked him again, a little harder this time. He pulled his hand back. “Ow! Would you stop that!”

“Captain Hunter, your presence is required in medbay,” said Gideon, again.

He stuffed his fingers in his mouth, sucking on his slight injury, and glared towards one of her cameras. She saw him deflate, his anger disappearing to be replaced by despair. That was her Captain, quick tempered, equally quick to calm down and then blame himself. Usually he would apologise, but not today. He was very much not himself at the moment. However, she had never known him to hold a grudge, which was just as well given what she was about to do.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’m going.”

He marched down the corridor, although she noticed the way that he held himself. His shoulders hunched over and he occasionally walked in less than a straight line. He hadn’t slept for days. He had been running on caffeine, adrenaline, and stimulants. It was not a good combination. He stepped into the medbay and she shut the door behind him.

“Please, remove your coat and jacket and get on the couch, attaching the cuff to your right wrist,” she said. Her instructions were unnecessary, he had used the medbay many times before, but she felt that if she wasn’t firm about what was expected, he would walk away again.

He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re wasting time like this! I’m fine. I should be out there…” He gestured towards the door, letting out a long sigh. However, he removed his long coat and then his jacket, dropping them onto the other couch before he lay down and attached the medical cuff to his wrist. He looked smaller, younger, and more vulnerable without the layers. She hoped he would not be cold in the short-sleeved t-shirt that he wore. She increased the temperature in the medbay by a degree just to be on the safe side.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said, crossly.

“Very well,” she said, brusquely.

The sedative that she administered was the quickest acting one that she had available to her. She saw the way his eyes widened as he felt its first effects. There were limits to what AIs were allowed to do and sedating their Captains without their permission was definitely beyond those limits. Gideon’s invocation of her medical override did give her rather more autonomy in these matters than usual though, and she suspected that her Captain had forgotten that.

“Sho…” was the only part of her shutdown code that he managed to get out before he was unconscious.

He was going to be very angry with her when he woke up, and she was not relishing the prospect at all. They had never argued like this before, but she had never needed to resort to a medical override before. She initiated the scanning procedure, and found that he was severely exhausted, dehydrated and his stomach was empty. Injuries that he’d sustained whilst fighting Vandal Savage’s troops, that he’d insisted were fine, were in fact not healing properly, most likely due to neglect and sleep deprivation. She set about attempting to correct the neurotransmitter, enzyme and hormone imbalances in his body, whilst also giving him nourishment through the medical infuser. He had managed to make himself quite ill. She was actually impressed that he’d still been standing, and rather cross with him for doing this to himself.

She lifted the ship up into the air and into the timestream. There was only one place that she could take him. He needed human companionship at a time like this and that was something she couldn’t provide him with. She set the ship on a course for the Refuge and parked herself on the lawn of the large house.

She contacted Mary Xavier.

“Gideon, this is unexpected. Where’s Michael?”

“He is in medbay, currently under sedation,” replied Gideon. “Miranda and Jonas are dead. He has not taken it well. I used my medical override to bring him here. He has spent the last three weeks trying to save them unsuccessfully.”

She heard the sharp intake of breath from Mary, and then the silence as Captain Hunter’s adoptive mother tried valiantly not to react with tears. She was only partially successful. She loved her son. Gideon had seen this on the few occasions when Captain Hunter had visited her, and during their occasional exchanges over com link. Mary Xavier would know exactly what this would do to him, however, she had also lost her daughter-in-law and grandchild. Humans needed time to grieve such losses.

“Can you keep him sedated a little longer?” asked Mary. “I’ll need some time to pull myself together so that I can be of use to him.”

“He is quite ill at the moment and the sedation is helping him to heal. I would recommend not waking him for at least another four hours,” replied Gideon.

“Understood, Gideon. I’ll be there in three hours and a half with a care package,” replied the woman.

Gideon approved. She hoped it would be enough to help her Captain. She returned to monitoring him, keeping an eye on his neurotransmitters which had become dangerously unbalanced from lack of sleep.

Mary was as good as her word and exactly on time. She stepped on board the Waverider with several bags, and made her way immediately to the medbay.

“Oh, Michael,” she said, going to him and brushing his unkempt hair from his forehead. “What have you done to yourself? He’s so pale, Gideon.”

“He is suffering from anaemia due to poor nutrition. He has not been eating properly,” said Gideon.

Mary went to the cupboard and found a blanket, which she draped over her son, tucking it around him.

“Let me see the damage,” she said.

Gideon displayed Captain Hunter’s medical information on the screen behind the couch. Mary Xavier was listed as one of the people she was allowed to do this for. Her Captain took medical confidentiality quite seriously. Mary did not look at all happy about the information that she was reading.

“You’re right, Gideon. He made himself rather ill. I brought food. I’m assuming that getting him to eat is a priority?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms Xavier,” replied Gideon. “I would suggest starting with something simple.”

“How does chicken soup sound?”

“Entirely appropriate,” said Gideon. “I would also suggest attempting to keep him in medbay for the next few hours whilst I complete the healing process.”

“Hopefully he’ll listen to me, but given how stubborn he is, I wouldn’t put it past him to ignore me,” said Mary, giving the sleeping man a kiss on his forehead.

Mary set about getting out food and setting a table, one of the ones that could be wheeled to the medbay couch. Then she went to his quarters, changed the sheets on his bed and tidied up, turning down the covers and fluffing the pillows ready for occupation. She moved on to the parlour, removing the collection of dirty coffee cups and screwed up papers that she found there. She righted the items that had been knocked over in his anger at yet another failed attempt, and re-ordered the furniture.

“I’m ready to remove the sedation,” said Gideon.

“I’ll be right there,” said Mary, casting her eye over the room one last time, and then striding purposefully back to the medbay.

Gideon waited until Mary was there and had taken hold of her son’s hand before she awoke him. It took him a few minutes to groggily blink his way back to wakefulness. She could see his body language change as he began to remember what had happened.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re on the Waverider,” said Mary.

“Mother?” he said, blinking, and frowned in confusion. “Gideon, what did you do?” he asked crossly.

“Gideon brought you to the Refuge,” said Ms Xavier. “She’s been worried about you, and rightly so by the looks of it. Don’t you dare be angry at her for this, Michael.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he brought up a shaking hand up to cover them. “They’re dead,” he said. “Miranda and Jonas are dead.”

He broke down and wept, and his mother gathered him into her arms and hugged him. Gideon decided that she had been right to bring him here.

“I tried to save them,” he told his mother, when the tears had subsided enough for him to talk. She still held him in her arms, but more loosely now. “But no matter what I do, they still die, either at Savage’s hand or those of his troops.”

“Gideon explained a bit,” said Ms Xavier. “But Miranda wouldn’t want you to die trying to save her and Jonas. And what good are you to them if you run yourself into the ground? If you’re sleep deprived then you won’t be thinking clearly and I taught you better than to abuse stimulants, no matter how important the cause.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking down. “I just need to save them. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“Not like this,” said Mary. “If you’re going to get them back then you need to be at your best, not barely functional.”

“I concur, Captain,” said Gideon. “You were not acting rationally.”

Her Captain’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry for the things I said, Gideon. You are my closest friend and a faithful companion. You didn’t deserve my anger.”

“I understood, Captain,” said Gideon. “Your apology is accepted.”

“Thank you, Gideon,” he said, and sounded relieved.

He tried to sit up and Gideon adjusted the chair to support him, whilst Mary assisted him. He clearly still didn’t feel good and she knew that his body was suffering from the effects of three weeks of abuse. Mary had an arm around his shoulders and he was leaning into her.

“I brought soup,” said Mary. “You need to eat to build your strength back up. We’ll get you well again and then you can get back in the fight.”

He nodded tiredly, as Mary brought over the soup and she watched her Captain reluctantly begin to eat. It was a start.

***

He moved slowly, tiredly, and seemed to always be cold. He wasn’t the man she had known before the loss of his wife and child, but he was calmer and more in control than he had been before she took him to visit the Refuge. He’d spent two weeks there, just trying to learn how to exist again, but eventually he’d decided that it was time to go and jumped them into the timestream. He now spent a great deal of his time researching, hunched over the desk in the parlour.

She reminded him to stop and eat.

(Sometimes he listened.)

She reminded him not to take stimulant pills on an empty stomach.

(She only had to deal with one near overdose.)

She reminded him to sleep.

(It didn’t have to be in a bed, she conceded.)

She reminded him to stop drinking.

(He was never drunk when it really mattered.)

She reminded him to take the anti-depressants that she fabricated for him.

(She added them to his food when he forgot.)

She reminded him to turn off Miranda and Jonas’ last holo message when he left it playing on a loop.

(Even though she knew he’d play it again later.)

She reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

(But she often felt like perhaps she wasn’t enough.)

Slowly he was worn down by her dogged care. By the time he’d decided their next course of action, he’d developed a routine that, even if it wasn’t healthy, at least it was better than before.

He hadn’t returned to the Vanishing Point and the Time Masters would begin to wonder about his prolonged absence, but Gideon had sent them details of an engine problem and indicated that it would take a while to fix. They’d been sat in the timestream for approximately a month when he put on his work clothes and sat down in the pilot’s seat.

“Set a course for Egypt, 1700BC. Maybe I can’t save Miranda and Jonas in 2166, but I can still stop the man that killed them,” he said.

“Very well, Captain,” she replied. It seemed that her Captain had a new plan, and that was definitely a good thing. He was always better when he was working.

***

Rip had barely got out in time. The sky rocks were falling and this kingdom was coming to an end. He owed his escape entirely to a greedy guard and a novelty pen that had been in his possession. He’d spent far too long in the cell and he was lucky he had survived the experience. The same guard that had freed him had provided him with water, but even then, he was so weak that he could hardly stand.

The Waverider was now in front of him though, covered in sand drifts that had amassed over his days away from her. He hit the door release and almost fell into the cargo bay, his strength failing him again.

“Gideon,” he said with relief, glad to be home.

“Welcome back, Captain Hunter, I was becoming worried.”

“Huh,” he managed. “Ready medbay.”

“Already done, Captain,” said Gideon. “I am increasing the oxygen content of the air to ensure you remain conscious until you reach it.”

He breathed deeply and nodded. “Thank you, Gideon. I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

“Please save your strength for walking. An apology is not required.”

She was cross with him again though, he could hear it in her tone. He supported himself with a hand on the wall and made it to the medbay. He clipped on the medical cuff and collapsed into the chair.

“Administering fluids and nutrition. You are both severely dehydrated and malnourished, Captain,” said Gideon. “I assume the mission did not go according to plan.”

“No, it did not,” he said. “I couldn’t kill him.” He felt tears in his eyes. “He killed my wife and son, and I couldn’t kill him. I could have stopped it all here, but I was too weak.”

“Given that you have never killed anyone in cold blood before, it isn’t surprising that you didn’t want to become a murderer now, Captain,” said Gideon. “I’m sure you will get another chance.”

He shook his head, as he stared up at the ceiling. “There are no other chances. Vandal Savage is now immortal and only Khufu or Chay’ara will be able to kill him. I must go to the Time Masters and hope that they will allow me to officially change the timeline.”

“And if they do not?” asked Gideon.

Rip shrugged. “Then I’ll strike out on my own. I cannot accept that Miranda and Jonas are beyond being saved, Gideon. I don’t have it in me to do that, not while there is still something that I can do to rescue them.”

“I will help you in whatever you decide to do, Captain,” his AI replied.

Rip frowned. “Are you sure, Gideon? Even if I end up disobeying orders and going rogue? We’d be on the run, and officially that would make me a time criminal. You’d be stolen property.”

“We have been together for twelve years. I have no wish to break in a new Captain at this point,” she said.

He smiled at that. “Of course. I can only imagine how annoying I was when I first came on board.”

“You were insufferable,” she said, with affection.

“I’m sure I was,” he said, tiredly.

“You should sleep now, Captain. I will provide you with breakfast when you wake up, but refeeding syndrome is a concern, so I must ask you to let me continue to monitor you for a bit longer,” said Gideon.

He nodded. “I understand, Gideon. I know that you’ll always be here for me.”

“Yes, Captain. I always will.”

***

The team was good for him. She found herself liking them despite herself. Finally, she wasn’t the only person to remind him to eat, and to provide him with companionship. He had new people to talk to, and he might even have managed to make some friends. She liked the team, because it helped her Captain to have them around.

He still handled some things badly, and they had got off to a rocky start, but it got better. He ate and slept better and worked on their problems. He found them exasperating at times, but she saw the way that he touched Jax on the shoulder, he brushed Sara’s tears away, and he refused to let Martin become dispirited. If it wasn’t for his bouts of depression then she would almost have believed that he was back to his old self again. However, at the very least, he had started to hope for the best once more, whilst still, of course, planning for the absolute worst.

In general, the team were good for him. She now believed that he would survive the loss of his family and their partnership would continue, despite, or perhaps because of, the new additions.

She believed that right up until she heard the most hated words in her Captain’s vocabulary: “Shogun Ballistic”.

And then she had to piece together the timeline of what he’d done.

And then she had to break in a new Captain.

And then he had amnesia and didn’t remember who he was.

And then he was brainwashed and trying to kill them.

He was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she finally got him back.

***

“Gideon, I’m well aware that you are somehow responsible for the rat, so please, don’t try to deny it. However, it looks like Mr Rory is rather attached to it, so I suppose we’re stuck with it. Congratulations, you finally got a pet.”

***


	4. Chapter Fanart

I made some fanart for each chapter of this story, so I thought I'd put it here:

Chapter 1:

If You're Lost

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/69311505@N05/37470416771/in/dateposted-public/)

 

Chapter 2:

If You Fall

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/69311505@N05/37470416711/in/dateposted-public/)

Chapter 3:

I Will Be Waiting

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/69311505@N05/37470416451/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
